Battle of the Bands
by Fixed Idea
Summary: Who will win the battle of the bands? Theon's Greyjoy Division? Arya's feminist punk band Faceless? Or will it be Ramsay's black metal group?


Thursday night was Battle of the Bands night at the Ice and Fire Club. Davos Seaworth, the harried manager of the club, was busy getting things ready.

"Sandor, who is working the door tonight?"

"Uh, let's see," the bartender checked his notes. "Tormund. Hodor called in sick."

Davos looked at him quizzically. "How do you know that's what he was saying?"

Sandor shrugged. "Instinct."

Davos let that slide. He had more important things to worry about. Like how to keep fights from erupting among the various musical acts. Oh, and keeping Ramsay Bolton from trashing the stage.

Ramsay was the lead singer of the Norwegian black metal band, Seven Hells. The manager made a mental note to wear his earplugs.

"Sandor, check our vodka supply. Gods help us if the Norwegians run out of their fuel."

* * *

By early evening most of the musical acts were there, setting up equipment and running sound checks. Davos was pleased to see that his young friend Jon Snow had arrived to help backstage.

"Jon! So glad you could make it!"

"You know I couldn't miss this. Arya would kill me." Jon's little sister Arya Stark was the lead singer of the feminist punk band Faceless. Her friend Brienne, a Teutonic beauty and former Olympic fencing gold medalist, played bass. They formed the core of the band, with an ever-changing line up of drummers and guitarists.

Davos leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "How are things going with that new sweetheart of yours?"

Jon blushed and ran his fingers through his beautiful black curls, "Dany? Oh, not bad. Not bad at all...uh, so, will Stannis be here tonight?" He clearly wanted to change the subject.

Davos sighed and rolled his eyes, "Well, you know how he is. I think these particular bands offend his classical sensibilities." Stannis Baratheon was the owner of Ice and Fire, and Davos' life partner.

Jon grinned. "How did you talk him into buying a nightclub, anyway?"

Davos looked down and said, humbly, "I can be quite persuasive when I need to be."

Jon snickered and said, "Yeah, well, mate, I'd better go help backstage. Oh, there's Sansa at the bar. See ya!"

Davos walked over to greet Sansa.

"Hello, dear! You look lovely, as always." He kissed her on the cheek. "Jon's backstage now."

Sansa, the eldest Stark girl and Jon's half-sister, was dressed in a gorgeous violet dress, all silk and tulle.

"Thank you, Ser Davos. Yes, I'll go see him in a few minutes. Sandor was just telling me the funniest story!"

Sandor blushed under his scraggly beard and burn scars. It was no secret that the gruff bartender with the checkered past was head over heels in love with the redheaded beauty. It was becoming clear to Davos that Sansa was beginning to return the feelings.

The Stark children had endured many hardships for the past decade or so. After the untimely death of their parents, Sansa had entered into an unwise marriage. Westeros' most eligible bachelor turned out to be a sociopath. Only an intervention by her siblings had saved the young woman from Joffrey's grip.

As a result, Sansa was a bit gunshy, as well she should be, thought Davos. Sandor, who turned out to be much more sensitive and perceptive than most folks gave him credit for, was taking things slow.

"I'll let you two get back to it, then." Davos started to walk off.

"Oh, boss. Dondarrion is backstage. Checking out the talent."

Davos was thrilled. He hadn't seen their friend Beric in months.

"Excellent! I'll go see him."

"Tell him I owe him a pint," grinned Sandor.

Beric Dondarrion got along well with everyone. He and Sandor were an unlikely pair of mates, but they bonded over past military service. Beric was a talent scout for R'hllor Records, a job that involved traveling all over Westoros, and beyond, to find exciting new musical acts. Davos had the feeling he would be impressed with Arya and Brienne's band, which had become tighter and more, well, "musical" in the past year. Their earlier efforts had been a bit too rough around the edges for Davos' taste.

When Davos found him backstage, Beric was leaning against a wall, his arms crossed, conversing with Ramsay Bolton. Yes, Beric got along well with everyone.

"Davos!" He ran over and hugged his friend, clapping him hard on the back. "So good to see you!"

"Likewise, dear friend. It's been too long!"

"Aye! I was just chatting with this fascinating young man!"

Davos nodded at Ramsay who fixed him with a malevolent gaze.

"I was just telling him I've been following his career with interest for the past few years. I saw him when he was in Valhalla NOW, during that ill-fated tour."

"You know I can't discuss that, asswipe. The lawyers have a gag order."

Beric just raised his eyebrows and smiled amiably. Unflappable, as always.

Davos cleared his throat, "Well, I'd better get back to work. We can talk more later. Good to see you."

"Oh, you also! Bye!"

While he went looking for Oberyn Martell, who would be performing with his daughters, the Sand Snakes, Davos thought about Beric. He had not been entirely surprised when Beric came out of the closet just a few years ago. He had been engaged to his childhood sweetheart, Allyria, for seven long years. They were very close, but Davos often remarked to Stannis that the pair seemed more like brother and sister. No chemistry. So when the two came to a mutual and amicable decision to part, Davos wasn't stunned.

Beric and Allyria remained close friends, and within two weeks of the breakup, he cheerfully announced that he was gay. Allyria moved to a quiet villa in Bravos to pursue her dream of being a serious novelist.

Davos was a bit jealous of how easily everyone adjusted to Beric's announcement. It wasn't as easy for him and Stannis. They lost many friends when they came out. People can be so disappointing, he thought, ruefully.

* * *

At 8:00 it was time to start the show. Jon had graciously offered to introduce each act.

"Welcome! We want to thank everyone for coming out tonight to support local musicians." The crowd was whistling and clapping. A good turnout, thought Davos, approvingly.

"Without further ado, here's Greyjoy Division!"

Theon Greyjoy looked thinner than ever. His carefully lined eyes had dark circles under them. As usual, he wore a ruffled white pirate shirt and tight jeans. Theon was like an emo David Bowie, but not nearly as good. Still, he had a charisma all his own. Young women (and men) swooned in front of the stage.

When the depressing and droning song was over, fans threw roses at the band.

"We love you, Theon!" was a cry that came from several quarters.

"Wow!" said Jon. "What a great performance by a former schoolmate of mine! Next up, we have my personal favorite- yes, I'm biased, the singer is my sister- Faceless!"

The crowd went wild. Arya was a spitfire in black leather, her spiky blue hair and combat boots an inspiration to unconventional young women.

Speaking of unconventional, Brienne Tarth was a striking woman. Her strong hands were perfect for playing bass. No one would call her pretty, but many have called her beautiful.

Tormund, the bouncer with the hipster beard, was gaga for Brienne. She found him annoying, it seemed, but Davos suspected she actually enjoyed trading barbs with him.

Next up were the Sand Snakes, a sultry jazz ensemble consisting of three of Oberyn Martell's daughters. Tonight they were joined by Oberyn himself on saxophone.

Oberyn was a fascinating man who was well-known in Westoros and in his native Dorne. Primarily, he was known for sleeping around. If you believed the rumors, the strikingly handsome man had bedded dozens (maybe even hundreds, according to some tales) of women and men across the country. Oberyn was also known for hosting elaborate parties at the palatial mansion he shared with longtime girlfriend Ellaria. They had an open relationship and often shared lovers.

Their song was lovely, and Davos wished Stannis had been there to hear it. Even he would have approved.

And with that, Davos felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Stannis! I can't believe you're here!" Davos couldn't wipe the grin off his face, so delighted was he to have his partner present. Stannis sat down next to him at the small table.

"I wanted to surprise you. I know you worked hard to organize this event. Besides, the boss should check in on his investments from time to time."

Davos was pleasantly surprised when Stannis held his hand under the table. He had never been one for public displays of affection.

"And now," Jon said into the mic, "we present our last act of the night. Uh, give it up for Seven Hells."

There was scattered applause as Ramsay and his band took the stage.

"Piss off, you cunts!" he screamed before launching into what would be loosely called a song.

"Bloody hells," said Stannis.

Ramsay's frightening shrieks were unintelligible to Davos, but he was fairly certain he heard the words "beheaded" and "fisting." The man sported nipple rings and multiple tattoos.

At the end of the "song," the audience tittered nervously. There were a few hoots and claps but not many. Ramsay flipped the crowd off and mooned them.

Davos ran his hands over his face and said, "That was…"

"Yes. It was."

Once again, Jon was at the mic, looking pale and confused.

"Uh. Okay. Well, let's all take a deep breath, and then we'll let you guys decide on the winner."

"I'm waiting with bated breath," Stannis said dryly.

Jon called out the name of each band in turn and had the audience clap for whom they liked best. To no one's surprise, Faceless won the contest. Greyjoy Division was second, with the Sand Snakes in third. Clearly, they were too polished and sedate for this venue.

Seven Hells came in dead last. Davos thought he heard screaming from backstage, though it might have been Ramsay's singing.

"Let's go home," said Stannis.

"No, I need to stay another hour or so, at least. I'm sorry," he replied with regret.

Stannis sighed and stood up.

"Alright. I hope to see you soon." He gave Davos an awkward hug and left.

Sandor and Sansa wandered over.

"Some of that was shite," Sandor said, shaking his head.

"But Arya and Brienne were brilliant, don't you think?" Sansa said with a smile, looking to Sandor for agreement.

He rolled his eyes. "I guess they didn't suck."

"You!" Sansa punched Sandor in the arm, and he started laughing.

"You'll have to do better than that, little bird."

Davos was impatient to get backstage and assess the damage, so he bid them goodnight and walked through the door by the stage.

He decided to hit the bathroom before talking to everyone, but what he saw in the first stall made him back out slowly and quietly.

"Good gods," he whispered to himself.

"What?" said Theon who had just appeared at his side. "Oh, Davos, have you seen Beric? He's supposed to give me his card. I think we might finally get signed!"

"Um, I'm sure he's around here somewhere," Davos said faintly.

"You okay? Well, if you see him tell him I'm ready to talk. Gotta take a leak now."

"No! Wait!" But Davos was too late. He heard Theon's scream, Ramsay's angry shout, and Beric telling both men to remain calm down.

Davos suddenly decided he needed a drink. And a shower. He asked Sandor and Jon to cover for him, and he took his leave, looking forward to a sane and safe evening with his love.


End file.
